


Scrap Paper

by heros_wings



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, Gang AU, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heros_wings/pseuds/heros_wings
Summary: A collection of one-shots, snippets from WIPs, and extra scenes from existing/completed fics. Will feature multiple pairings.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Mark Tuan, Im Jaebum | JB/Jackson Wang, Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Park Jinyoung/Mark Tuan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	1. Mark/Jinyoung

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted a place to put my assortment of stuff that I write that doesn't really have anywhere to go. I also wanted a low-stress way to post things that might not be 100% or might never turn into a full fic.

  
"I Think I Love You."  
  
Pairing: Mark/Jinyoung  


Rating: G

* * *

For Mark, Jinyoung had always been a constant  presence.

From their first meeting, when Jinyoung jokingly introduced himself as "JYP," to the nights they spent in the park together, communicating in a strange mixture of broken English and Korean, to the moment Mark looked across their little huddle right before their debut stage and saw him looking back, Jinyoung had always been next to him since he moved to Korea as a teenager. A constant, stabilizing presence.

For years he told himself the ease and comfort he felt with Jinyoung was just the way they all were. He was the one with the patient ear and calm, gentle voice of reason. He was the one to pull them all into his arms so their tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. Jinyoung was the person they all sought comfort from when they needed it most.

He told himself that his gaze and touch lingered just a little longer on Jinyoung because he wanted to cling to that little bit of stability and comfort as long as he could. Told himself that watching Jinyoung's lips move as he talked and his hips roll as they practiced a new choreography that it was nothing. That his eyes traced along Jinyoung's cheek bones and memorized every little detail of his body, down to the freckles and moles hidden by makeup and clothing, because Jinyoung was beautiful and deserved to be admired.

The realization that his heart beat just a bit quicker when Jinyoung was close didn't come until much later. Until years went by with boyfriends and girlfriends moving in and out of their lives like passing storms. 

He still remembered the moment when it hit him. They were on stage, the shrill, deafening screams of thousands of fans in his ears as confetti fell around him, a blizzard of white paper obstructing everything except Jinyoung. Their eyes met and Mark watched as Jinyoung's turned up, the corners creasing into wrinkles. Jinyoung's smile was brighter than the stage lights. The old habit of hiding it forgotten. 

One step. Two. Three. Jinyoung threw his arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug, then let go. Not a word passed between them. 

Mark wrapped an arm around Jinyoung's waist as they moved down the runway together, waving and flashing little peace signs at the fans. 

Behind them, Yugyeom ran forward. The ice cold water hit the back of his head and soaked through his shirt before he even realized what had happened. He jerked forward, intent on getting his revenge as Yugyeom sprinted to the main stage, laughing and pointing over his shoulder. 

An arm wrapped around his. Jinyoung, just as wet as Mark, smiled with that closed-lipped smile that promised Yugyeom worlds of revenge backstage. Mark swallowed, watching droplets of water drip from Jinyoung's hair and soak into his shirt.

Leaning forward, Jinyoung pressed his lips to his ear, breath warm and too intimate. Mark forced his breath steady as Jinyoung's hand rested on his shoulder to pull him closer.

"We'll get him later."

He stepped back and flashed Mark a wicked grin, the gleam in his eye mischievous and full of mirth. Mark's gaze roamed across his lips and along the curve of his cheeks, finding a piece of confetti stuck just above his brow, partially hidden by black bangs.

Reaching up, he peeled it off. When their eyes met, silent words he could never say echoed through his mind.

_ I love you. _

The words rose up the back of his throat, longing to escape. To spill forward, no longer trapped or caged behind the lies and denials he had told himself for so many years…

He shoved the words back down to the place he kept them locked inside. A place full of resigned sorrow and regrets for a future he would never have.

_ I love you. _

He snaked his arm around Jinyoung's waist again, and they walked back to the main stage, the roar of their fans surrounding them, as if trying to help him drown out the impossible thoughts of something that could be if they lived a different life. 

_ I love you… _

He dug his fingers into Jinyoung's hip, the fabric of his shirt damp with water and sweat. 

_ And I can never tell you. _  
  
  



	2. Mark/Youngjae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sleep Habits"  
> Pairing: slight Mark/Youngjae  
> Rating: G
> 
> Summary: Mark has a very strange habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when the boys were still living together.

Mark had an odd habit.

Despite their "official" room assignments, Mark found himself floating from room to room, taking up bed or floor space wherever he happened to end up that night.

Once, he had been found tucked neatly under the covers in Jinyoung's room. Sometimes Jaebum found piles of junk flung onto the floor of his and Jackson's room, and Mark asleep on the top bunk. And even on the nights Mark _did_ sleep in his room, he was in Youngjae’s bed more often than his own.

The members had more-or-less become accustomed to this habit. Most nights it wasn't even a problem.

Except, on rare occasions, it turned into an actual safety hazard…

“Aarghh!!”

“OW!”

Shouts rang through the dark apartment. There was a rustle of blankets, hastily shuffling feet, and finally someone flicked on the lights.

Mark sat on the floor of their small kitchen, surrounded by blankets. He was rubbing his side, where Jackson had stepped on him.

“What the hell are you doing!” Jackson shouted.

“I _was_ sleeping,” Mark grumbled irritably.

“In the kitchen?!”

Mark glanced around him, as if just realizing where he was. Moments later, Jaebum and Bambam came out of their own rooms to investigate the noise.

“I started out in the living room...” he replied.

“Are we being robbed?” Bambam asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Jaebum looked at Jackson, then his eyes slid down to where Mark was running his fingers through his hair, still not fully awake. Mark looked up, sighed, and gathered up the blankets.

“It's hot in our room…” he grumbled, before trudging off towards Bambam and Yugyeom's room.

Bambam blinked as Mark passed, before spinning on his heel and chasing after him with a disparaging cry.

“Hyung, _no!_ Come on! You slept in my bed _last_ night!”

Jaebum and Jackson looked at each other, then, without a word, shut off the light and headed to their own room. They locked the door. Just in case.

The next morning, Mark was curled around Bambam, who had made a failed attempt at shoving him off the bed the previous night.

Jinyoung snapped a photo before shaking them awake. A slow smile slid to his lips as Bambam groaned and tried to bury himself deeper into the covers, only to find he couldn't move under Mark’s weight.

“Ah- _hyung!”_ He complained, shoving Mark off him and onto the floor, where he landed with a heavy _thud._

With a sleepy, pained moan, Mark lifted himself from the floor and leaned against the bed, his eyes closed. 

“Five more minutes.”

Jinyoung snapped another photo as Bambam buried his head under the pillow with another groan.

*

“This is a problem,” Jackson looked down at the figure curled in the nest he and Jaebum made on the floor and called a bed. “Like this is a legitimate problem we need to seek actual professional help for.”

Jaebum sighed and closed the door. He slept in the living room most nights anyway, but Jackson wasn't quite as flexible.

“Yugyeom is sleeping at his parents’ house tonight...just take his bed.”

The words barely left his mouth before Jackson disappeared into the other room. With another sigh, Jaebum settled himself on the couch.

The next morning, Mark was on the floor next to him, buried under the blankets and pillows from Jaebum and Jackson’s room.

*

Yugyeom was a tolerant person. It was practically a requirement when he was the youngest in a group of six other guys.

But this was too much.

Mark. 

And Jackson.

Sleeping. In _his_ bed.

Worse...Jackson was wrapped so tightly around Mark they practically fused into one person.

“Yah!” 

He jerked the pillow out from under Jackson, who lifted his head just long enough to peer blearily over his shoulder before letting it fall back to the bed.

“Go away.”

Scowling, Yugyeom smacked him with the pillow.

“You're in _my_ bed.”

With a disgruntled groan, Jackson buried his face into the crook of Mark’s neck.

“Can't you just sleep at your parents’ house?”

Exasperated, but mostly just _tired_ , Yugyeom yanked off the covers and pulled them both out of bed by the ankles.

“Sleep in your own rooms!” he shouted, jumping in bed and covering himself with the blankets.

Mark blinked tiredly at Jackson, who was looking grumpily at the lump that was Yugyeom.

“What were you doing in Yugyeom's bed?”

Jackson shoved him over.

“ _I_ was there first.”

*

Youngjae sighed.

It was his turn tonight.

Without a word, he slipped into Mark’s vacant bed, as his was now occupied with Mark sprawled on his stomach and Coco sleeping soundly on his back.

The next morning, unsurprisingly, Mark was plastered against him, his arm haphazardly thrown across his waist, nose pressed into his neck, breath warm and damp against his skin…

Youngjae shifted carefully, just enough so he could reach for his phone next to his pillow without waking Mark. _7:05am_. They had another hour before they had to be up. 

Without hesitating, he moved closer so his back was pressed flush against Mark's front. He felt another shift as Mark's arm tightened it's hold around his waist and buried his face deeper into Youngjae’s neck so he could feel the smile curve against his skin.

Youngjae loved when it was his turn.


	3. Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Sorting"  
> Rating: G
> 
> Summary: Hogwarts AU; Mark is sorted into his House.

“Tuan, Mark!” 

Mark took a deep, calming breath. Next to him, Jackson, the kid he met on the train, whispered an excited, “good luck!” in his ear. He didn't really think luck had much to do with it, but he flashed Jackson a small smile anyway. 

He stepped out of the small group of first years still waiting to be sorted, eyes fixed on the hat sitting on the stool. He was glad he watched the other students do it first, it made him less nervous about sitting on a stool in front of the entire school with a hat too big for his head, waiting for it to do something. He saw Jaebum, the other boy he met on the train, smile widely at him from the Gryffindor table just before Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head and the Great Hall disappeared.

_ “Well, aren't you a difficult one?” _ a voice said quietly in his ear. Mark had no idea what that meant, so he didn't reply. It felt weird “talking” in his head to a hat…

_ “Not to worry, there's no need to speak, in fact, the chatty ones make it much more difficult...arguing and such…” _

The hat trailed off into a brief, silent pause, before it continued.  _ “Muggleborn, eh?” _

_ “Um…yes?” _

_ “American too, very interesting...why not Ilvermorny?” _

_ “My parents moved to Scotland a few years ago because of my dad's job…”  _ What did this have to do with being sorted into a House, he wondered?

_ “Just curious, no matter...now let's see...quite adventurous I see. Curious too. Very curious indeed. Yes, yes, I see a wonderful mind.” _

Mark gripped the edges of the stool. How long was this going to take? The hat barely touched Jaebum’s head before it sorted him into Gryffindor…

_ “Patience is a virtue my dear boy. I once had a student who took nearly five minutes to sort. Insisted on Hufflepuff, but in the end he was a Gryffindor…” _

_ “I don't care what House I'm in…”  _ he replied honestly. 

Jaebum and Jackson told him all of the different houses while they were on the train. According to them, Gryffindor was the House of the famous Harry Potter, a wizard who defeated one of the most powerful dark wizards in history when he was just _17-years-old_. It was a remarkable story that had Mark hanging on their every word, but it didn't exactly make him _want_ to be in Gryffindor. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sounded just fine to him, and even Slytherin, despite its reputation, couldn't turn out _all_ bad wizards...

_ “Ambition can drive people to do unspeakable things but it can drive them to do remarkable ones as well,”  _ the hat said solemnly.  _ “I place you in the House of the founder who would have chosen you if they were still here to do so, but I cannot predict the person you become.” _

Mark  _ still  _ didn't understand how this conversation was going to help place him into a House…

_ “Ah but I have been thinking while we have been chatting - one of many talents my maker gifted to me.” _

Vaguely, Mark wondered how one  _ would  _ make a talking hat that could read minds…

_ “Very complicated magic many wizards could not comprehend. Albus Dumbledore was perhaps the last great wizard who could accomplish such magic.” _

Again, Mark didn't respond. He had no idea who Albus Dumbledore was.

_ “One of the greatest wizards in history,”  _ the hat answered.

There seemed to be a lot of those, Mark thought somewhat dryly. Almost every name he had heard since he boarded the train had been followed by “great wizard” or “great witch” which seemed like an awful lot of pressure - he didn’t  _ want _ to be great. He just wanted to figure out this whole magic thing…

The hat seemed to chuckle.  _ “Oh dear boy who ever talks about  _ ordinary _ people? You can be as unremarkble as you would like.” _

Somehow that didn’t make him feel much better.

_“Now, as you’ve been thinking, as have I…I do believe Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would have been quite_ _happy to have you in their Houses. Quite the hard worker too, once something catches your interest…”_

Mark sighed. How many minutes had already gone by? He was getting antsy.  _ “Can't you just sort me?”  _

But the hat ignored him this time.  _ “Not quite the studious type some might expect from Ravenclaws…” _

_ “So put me in Gryffindor,”  _ he thought impatiently.

_ “However,”  _ the hat continued as if he had never spoken, _ “while you may be brave, you do not rush into something without considering everything that is in front of you.” _

Now Mark  _ really  _ didn't know what the hat was talking about…

_ “But still, Gryffindor would have liked you...would have admired your sense of adventure and willingness to step into the unknown.” _

Mark never really thought of himself like that, but yeah, sure, if agreeing would get him off the stool....

_ “Yes, he would have liked that about you, but I do believe much of it is simply a desire to see and experience things to satisfy your own curiosity.”  _

_ “I-I guess?” _ he really had no idea where the hat was going with this.

_ “Adventurous, curious, bright mind, quick witted...perhaps Hogwarts has enough to hold your interest and you will study to become a great wizard one day. Or perhaps a spectacularly ordinary one. Yes, I know the best fit for you - RAVENCLAW!” _


	4. Mark/Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Title - WIP Gang AU  
> Pairing: Mark/Jackson  
> Rating: R-ish (language mostly)
> 
> Summary: Mark drinks to forget his sins. He meets Jackson Wang, a young mob boss from Hong Kong. Draft chapter 1 of a Gang/mafia AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a WIP I very much want to finish, but it might never get done so I wanted to at least share the beginning.

Finally, the alcohol was doing its job. Mark could feel the heavy bass through the club speakers as if it was coming from beneath his own skin, thumping hard against his chest and ribcage. Flashes of unfamiliar faces in the dark appeared and disappeared with the strobing lights. The disorienting, overstimulation of light and noise and movement was dizzying. Intoxicating. He let himself drown in it. Let bodies grind against him and hands run and grope wherever they pleased. It was what he needed  _ \- craved _ \- on nights like these. He didn't want to think. Didn't want to discern between whose hand was on his waist or whose had just squeezed his ass. He wanted to lose himself until the night disappeared and nothing was left. Not his memories. Not his sins. Not the fucking reality that he'd have to kill again.

He felt the smooth surface of a plastic cup press into his hand. He turned. An unfamiliar face swam in front of his unfocused vision. He saw a grin just before it disappeared and there was a hand on his waist again. The warm breath in his ear stank of alcohol when the man spoke.

"For you."

When he pulled back, still grinning, his hand still on Mark's waist, Mark could finally make out some of his features. He was handsome...ish. But - he lifted the drink to his lips - maybe he would do for the night.

A hand appeared and firmly closed around the cup.

"Don't drink that."

The voice was familiar. Mark slowly turned his head. Blinked. Youngjae's face sharpened like a camera finally coming into focus.

Mark tugged stubbornly, the contents sloshing and spilling over the brim of the plastic cup and onto their hands. 

"Let go."

Youngjae only tightened his grip.

The hand disappeared from his waist.

"What the fuck man?!" his suiter yelled and stepped forward. 

Youngjae leveled an icy glare at him. "You have five seconds to leave before I force this spiked drink down your throat."

Mark wrenched his hand from Youngjae. More liquid spilled onto the floor and splashed onto the stranger's shoes. Mark knocked back what little was left in the cup, crumpled it, and threw it on the floor.

"Fuck off," he slurred, stumbling back and away from Youngjae and the man, who was now too busy cursing about his shoes to care that Mark was disappearing back into the crowd of grinding bodies.

He needed another drink.

Youngjae didn't follow. Mark knew he wouldn't. Tomorrow, he might regret treating Youngjae like that. He always did. But tonight - he stumbled into a faceless body and brushed against another - he didn't care. Whether he woke up in his own bed or another's, or whether he woke up at all - he didn't care. He never did on nights like these.

He staggered out of the crowd. The floor tilted and moved as the world spun, focused, and unfocused around him. He swayed. Steadied. Continued his way to the bar. 

"One-" he leaned heavily against the glass top. A soft, red glow emitted from below. He gazed curiously at it. A small giggle escaped. "Tha's fancy," he slurred, drawing out the 'c' so it sounded more like  _ 'ssssee.' _

The bartender raised an eyebrow. They knew him here. Knew when to cut him off and when to keep going. He was not in the mood to be cut off tonight.

"You're done tonight, Mark."

"C'mon Jae-"

"No."

Mark scowled. "You'a f-fucking asshole."

"Right back at ya," Jae replied, unbothered. He filled a cup with water and slid it across the bar. "Who's babysitting you tonight?"

Mark swept his hand across the bar, knocking over the cup. Water spilled across the glass top. Swearing loudly, Jae grabbed a rag from behind the counter, but it was too late. Mark watched the water flow to the edge and over just as someone stepped next to him. Jae snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening and back straightening. 

Mark looked up, following Jae's suddenly nervous gaze to his left. The water that had dripped over the side, landed on the stranger's shoes. The man shifted away so it hit the floor instead. Mark's eyes traveled up custom made black trousers, registered the perfectly fitted burgundy button shirt that looked like the finest silk money could buy, and finally met a pair of dark eyes that looked back in interest.

"Bad night?"

Mark saw temptingly rose-colored lips curve into a smile that matched the amusement in the man's deep voice. His eyes dropped back down to the hem of the man's trousers and scanned him from head-to-toe again. 

_ Well fuck,  _ he thought, a sultry smile sliding to his lips. Maybe he would find someone to go home with tonight, afterall. And this one was a significant upgrade to the one Youngjae scared off.

He reached out and thumbed the soft silk of the man's collar. 

"I can think'a ways t'make-it better," he slurred.

"I'm sorry," Jae said quickly, now wiping away the spilled water and clearing off the fallen cup

"He's a regular and doesn't normally act-" he fell silent when the man held up his hand. He was still looking at Mark as if he was thinking he too would like nothing more than to take him home that night.

Mark watched the man's eyes do the same up-and-down scan Mark had given him earlier. He tilted his head, the small smile still on his lips as if he approved of what he saw. 

"Don't worry about it, Jae."

He finally looked away from Mark to address Jae. "Can I get a bottle of my usual?" Just as Jae stepped back to get whatever his "usual" was, the man added, "Two glasses."

Jae glanced at Mark. Whoever the man was, he was important enough that the glance was the only show of hesitation before Jae bowed and stepped away.

"Wa'syour name?" Mark's grin widened as the man gently took the hand still fingering his collar and moved it away.

"Jackson Wang," he held onto Mark's hand just long enough to stroke the inside of his palm with his thumb before letting go. 

"Tha's- not Kore-ean."

Jae returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

Jackson's grin widened. He took the bottle and glasses. 

"No," he replied. English this time. "It's not."

Mark's eyes widened almost comically.  _ "English?" _

Chuckling, Jackson tilted his head to a roped off staircase that led to a balcony for VIPs only. 

"Think you can get up those?"

Mark eyed the stairs. His vision tilted and the stairs moved each time he blinked to bring them back into focus, but hell, he was still standing so…

He took the bottle from Jackson's hand then laced their fingers together.

"Can if you help me."

Grinning, Jackson slowly led him towards the stairs, his grip firm and steadying. Whatever the fuck the guy Youngjae saved him from put in his drink, even the small amount seemed to have been enough to make the edges of his vision darken and blur. He staggered forward and into someone else.

"Let go," Youngjae's voice said above him.

Mark stubbornly tried to tug his and Jackson's hand from Youngjae's and ended up stumbling sideways. Youngjae's arm extended just in time to catch him. 

Suddenly everything was too loud - the music, the crowd, the fucking pounding in his ears from his own heartbeat.

"Fuck…" his eyes closed, too heavy to keep open any longer. "...off."

The noise was gone. The world was black. He felt weightless. The night had reduced to nothing but silence and darkness. The last thing he remembered was a pair of strong arms wrapped firmly around him, bringing with them the scent of sandalwood and jasmine. Then everything slipped away. Just as he had wanted.


	5. Jaebum/Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prove It"  
> Pairing: Jaebum/Jackson  
> Rating: R
> 
> Summary: Jaebum loves Jackson.
> 
> I wrote this sometime after Turbulence was released and Jackson was still blond.

Jaebum loved Jackson. He loved the feel of Jackson's skin beneath his fingertips and the taste of him under his tongue…

He loved the soft sounds Jackson made as he kissed his shoulders. Loved the way his breath hitched when Jaebum's lips moved down his chest, and the way his muscles quivered as Jaebum ran his tongue along the hard lines of his stomach. He loved how Jackson's skin blossomed red – a trail left behind Jaebum's gentle bites and kisses as he made his way back to Jackson's lips...

The sound of Jackson's soft gasps and moans as he slowly pressed into him was like a melody created only for them. Each word of praise murmured in his ear was greeted with desperate enthusiasm to meet each of Jaebum's thrusts into him. As if the need to please Jaebum was in Jackson's very nature. Etched into his bones and weaved into every crevice of his soul.

Jackson's blond hair was still damp from his shower and stuck up in all directions against the white pillow. His mouth slack and open as he threw his head back, eyes shut, skin flushed with pleasure. Jaebum memorized everything before him, committing to memory the image and feel of Jackson coming undone beneath him so he could revisit the moment on nights they were apart. 

Jackson clenched tightly around him, his nails digging into Jaebum’s arms so they left little crescent indents into his skin. 

He choked out a strangled,  _ "Hyung–"  _ his voice cut off with a sharp hiss as Jaebum wrapped his fingers around him and moved his hand in slow, steady strokes.

"Jackson- _ ah,"  _ he purred in Jackson's ear, "I love you."

Cursing, Jackson spilled between them.  _ God,  _ he was beautiful like that, Jaebum thought, feeling himself near the edge.

Jackson threaded his fingers through his hair at the back of his neck, his eyes hooded and heavy as they looked up at Jaebum. He tugged on the hair caught between his fingers.

Jaebum moaned at the sensation. 

"I love you too."

Pleasure coursed through him. His release filled Jackson as he buried himself deep. His rhythm slowed and his mouth found Jackson's, kissing him, open and wet and sloppy. 

Chuckling, Jackson gently pulled away, coaxing Jaebum to chase after him again. The fire that had burned so wildly between them simmered to warm embers. Their kisses became unhurried, as if time no longer existed for them. They had forever.

They parted again. Once their breath caught, Jaebum cleaned them up with the first thing he could reach. Tossing the soiled shirt to the floor, he gathered Jackson back in his arms. Jackson let out a breathless laugh.

“That was Mark’s shirt.”


End file.
